Chapter 57

“Mom’s been a lot more chipper since Alexa got here.” I mentioned as I stuffed squishy chairs into the back of my car, along with one of the hookahs.

“It’s a good thing as far as I’m concerned,” dad replied casually, putting the other chairs and hookah in his vehicle. “Although this party she seemingly has in mind is going to be a larger one.”

“Define large.” I requested warily.

He shrugged. “Large for her, maybe ten invitees along with the four of us.”

“That’s livable,” I sighed as I shut my trunk. “I was having paranoid visions of a weird rave run by my mom and me being everyone’s bitch for the night.”

Dad laughed. “I wouldn’t let her do that to you, Alex. That and she’s loosening up, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, I guess. Any idea where they went?”

“Probably to buy fresh shisha and some ultrafine ground coffee, since I purchased those two sets,” he mused. “Using regular coffee and fudging on the details woudn’t do, of course.”

“I’m still trying to picture anyone outside our family enjoying it,” I laughed. “Gotta at least try, right?”

“It’s the principle of the thing, you’re right,” he said easily as he closed his hatch and got into his vehicle. “See you back at the homestead…”

***

Dad and I sat and waited at home for some time, drinking beer and watching some retro hockey games before they finally arrived. Sure enough, mom had a bag full of coffee and another containing several types of shisha. Her eyes were glinting with excitement.

“So the party is tonight, you two have your work cut out for you, rearranging the living room to Moroccan Lounge Theme Bravo. Step to it!”

Dad and I looked at one another and sighed. Yes, mom really did have distinct designations for different room themes. There were seven hookah party lounge arrangements and she wanted ‘Moroccan Lounge Bravo’. Dad wasn’t kidding about more guests. I just wish I’d had more notice about when this party was or my opinion asked.

So dad and I spent the next two hours moving everything around or to the study off the living room and brought in the new beanbag chairs, along with the ones we already owned and the plush throw pillows and rugs. We took down the WASP-y decor from the walls and tables and replaced them with elements that sung of a Middle Eastern concept. Then we hung fabric from the ceiling, draping and billowing low enough to made a Berber exile feel at home.

Since there was not enough time to cook, mom was ordering in Moroccan again, not that any of us objected. Alexa offered to make fresh mint tea and other beverages, along with prepping for the coffee. I think as much as we’d been enjoying ourselves these past few days, she was looking forward to meeting more people.

And it made me smile.

***

We sat around in the living room, laughing and talking while we ate dessert. Eight guests had attended, including mom and dad’s friends and associates, Mr and Mrs Stevenson. Some neighbours from down the street had joined us, along with a local alderman and his wife. We’d served almond pastries and perfumed oranges along with the mint tea. Alexa and mom excused themselves to begin heating the water for coffee.

I entertained everyone for several minutes by recalling an incident in the Linguistics department when dad suddenly pressed a button on the stereo remote and turned on our Arabic synth music. Everyone went quiet for a moment before mom came in with the Turkish coffee tray, serving piping hot and muddy coffee all around.

No sooner had she done this than Alexa swished and wiggled into the room, wearing her new belly dancing outfit.

I was really hoping my jaw didn’t hit the floor.

She looked stunning. Her golden hair spilled down her back in lush waves and curls. The little headpiece she wore held a veil over her lower face, leaving her blue eyes shining. The top of the outfit deserved an award for containing her bust, accented by the see-thru fabrics I watched them buying. Her midriff and upper hips were bare, the only decoration being a thin golden chain around her waist and a large red jewel in her navel. The underwear was covered by more diaphanous material and her legs were encased in billowing layers of the same. Her feet were bare. Little bangles that jingled adorned her ankles, biceps and wrists.

She slinked and shimmied around the room to excited applause. We hadn’t told anyone about the entertainment and they reacted with delight. I had to fight not to stare stupidly, barely noticing mom pouring coffee into my ornate cup. Hopefully no one else heard my heart pounding.

I couldn’t believe how much her eyes danced with joy as she entertained us. Her movements were enchanting, with a seductive serpentine grace. I was thankful she didn’t spend much time looking at me, because I’m fairly certain my expression would have given us away. She removed various gauze wraps from her body, garnering catcalls from the women as she snaked one around Mr Stevenson’s neck and he blushed furiously while his wife laughed.

She seemed to give everyone a personal show for a few moments, dancing in front of them and thankfully mine wasn’t special- she gyrated her hips and undulated her belly in front of me but that was all. I did my best to seem entertained without looking too rapt in the display. Alexa danced for several minutes and through at least three songs before bowing to much applause and sitting down to have coffee before it cooled off.

She was sitting beside mom and I had to look past dad and mom to see her as we sat around the circle. As much as I wanted to gawk at her, perhaps it was for the best that I had other things to look up. Dad had also been dutifully heating up the coals for hookah and we now brought these out, teaming people up to share them. Alexa got paired with me since everyone else had a spouse with them. She switched places with dad and settled down next to me, giving me an impish grin.

I let Alexa choose the flavour and she went with a papaya-mango-mint shisha from one of my favourite brands. Dad put the shisha in our bowl and then a coal on top. We waited expectantly and I took the initial draws to make sure it was ready. It was excellent and I passed her the hose.

I’m not kidding, watching her smoke hookah in that wonderful outfit, exhaling slowly and wreathing herself in tendrils of greyish-wish smoke was utterly transfixing. The light from the Moroccan lamps played over her divine body, sheathed in the silks and gauzes, glinting off her silvery bangles.

We continued talking with the music playing in the background. The room was thick with a myriad of flavoured clouds and contests began to see who could blow the biggest, thickets clouds. Alexa and I were beating everyone by a long shot until my father took a very deep inhale, filling that enormous chest of his and expelled an not a cloud but an entire weather front. I was amazed it didn’t begin raining in the living room.